Pasts Imperfect
by Juliebmr
Summary: COMPLETE. Many years ago, Scott's and Logan's pasts intersected. What will the knowledge of that intersection hold for the future of them both?
1. Default Chapter

_Authors Note: All of my other stories have dealt with Scott's past. So here's a little bit of the future -- with complications from the past thrown in for good measure. This story came about because while much is made of Scott's father, almost nothing is said of his mother. I'm trying to even that out a bit. :-) And just to be clear, in this story, Scott's parents are dead. There are no intergalactic space pirates, megalomanic emperors with a thing for blonds, or anything else._

_The story takes place some time after the events in X3 -- whatever they turn out to be . So it will either be AU or I was channeling Bryan Singer!_

_Standard disclaimer: I don't own them; I'm just borrowing them for our entertainment._

**Pasts Imperfect**

Chapter 1

As with many of the daily chores around the mansion, Scott was the one who sorted the mail. All of the students had their own cubbyholes for mail, but mostly they were used for internal messages. Only half the students had family or friends who cared enough to write.

Scott himself fell into the former category. Most of his mail was either junk mail or the occasional postcard from his brother. So when he got a letter with no return address, he was a little surprised.

He was even more surprised when he opened it. There was no note -- just an old photograph. A small group of people were clustered around his parents. He recognized his parents, although it was clearly taken before he was born. His mother was the only woman in the photograph. But he had no idea who the others were.

Scott stared at the photograph with some confusion. Logan came up behind him and looked over his shoulder.

"Who's the babe?" he asked.

"My mother," Scott replied, not without humor.

"Lovely woman," Logan corrected himself. Then he looked at the picture again. Okay, Scott Summers was obviously a dead ringer for his father, but there was something familiar ...

"I know that man," he said firmly.

"Which one?"

"That one." Logan pointed to the oldest man in the photograph. "His name is Nick Fury."

x x x x x

Logan remembering anything from his mysterious past was an event enough. But that someone _Logan_ knew was in a photograph with Scott's parents -- that was downright strange.

As always, with anything truly bizarre, there was only one person they could consult. They went to see Professor Xavier.

x x x x x

Professor Xavier studied the photograph with interest and listened to Logan and Scott.

"All I remember is his name," Logan said. "Nick Fury. How I know, or why I know, I couldn't tell you. But I _know_ that's Nick."

"Does the name S.H.I.E.L.D. mean anything to you," the Professor asked.

Logan thought about it and shook his head. "Not really," he admitted. "But I feel it's something I ought to."

"I'm not surprised," Professor Xavier replied. "Nick Fury is -- or was -- in charge of S.H.I.E.L.D. It's a secret government organization."

"Spies?" Scott asked.

"Sometimes," answered the Professor. "They've done various things over the years."

"But why is someone like that with my parents?" Scott wondered. "And why does Logan know him?"

Professor Xavier smiled. "I suggest we ask him."

x x x x x

It only took a few phone calls for the Professor to track down Nick Fury. A short conversation later, Nick agreed to come to Westchester. Professor Xavier didn't mention Scott or Logan in the phone call. He wanted to observe the other man's reaction when he arrived.

x x x x x

The next day, Nick Fury arrived. He came alone, in a nondescript black car. While Nick Fury might (or might not) still be involved with S.H.I.E.L.D., old habits apparently died hard.

Both Scott and Logan watched the arrival from a window, but from different rooms. Scott was waiting in the Professor's study; Logan was in the hall, hidden in the window alcove. Professor Xavier answered the door.

"Good morning, Nick," Professor Xavier said politely.

"Charles, it's been a long time," Nick Fury said by way of greeting. "Now, what's this about a photograph?"

"If you come to my study I'll explain everything," the Professor said as he led the way down the hall. 

As Professor Xavier expected, there was an immediate reaction when Nick Fury saw Scott Summers, albeit a restrained one. He blinked. But for Nick, that was tantamount to jumping up and down.

"Well, there's no doubt who this young man is," Nick drawled. He held out his hand. "I'm Nick Fury -- I knew your parents. Are you Scott Summers or Alex?"

"Scott," he replied as he shook the other man's hand.

"Why don't we sit down," the Professor suggested.

As they were getting settled, Scott looked at their visitor with interest. Nick Fury had definitely been through the wars. A little older than the Professor, he wore an eye patch and moved with a certain stiffness that came from too many injuries or the beginnings of arthritis, or both. But the face was alive with intelligence.

Professor Xavier passed him the photograph. "Scott received this in the mail," he explained. "There was no note, no explanation. Do you remember where this photograph was taken?"

Nick Fury looked at the photograph. "I haven't thought about this project in years," he mused. "Lord, this must be almost 30 years old." He smiled at Scott. "Of course, it would be about that. You're what, twenty-eight? Your parents met on this project."

"Why is my mother in the photograph?" Scott asked.

Nick Fury cocked his head in some surprise. "You don't know? Son, your mother was my project manager. Best one I ever had. She was an engineer; she designed airplanes. It's how she met your father; he was the test pilot on the project."

Scott was stunned. "I knew my father was a pilot," he said. "But I didn't know my mother was an engineer."

"Scott received a severe head trauma in the crash," Professor Xavier explained. "His memory from before the crash is -- somewhat uncertain."

Actually, it was practically non-existent. But for some reason, Professor Xavier didn't want Nick Fury to know that. So, Scott played along.

"I couldn't tell you why someone would send you this photograph," Nick said, returning to the topic at hand. "We took this at the end of the project. My secretary took the photograph, in fact. She and Kathy were pretty close; I think they kept up a correspondence after your parents got married." He smiled suddenly. "She probably has some things you'd like to see."

Scott nodded. He had very few mementos of his parents. "That would be great."

Nick Fury pulled out a cell phone and hit the speed dial. "Shelley, it's Nick. You'll never guess who I'm sitting with right now -- Chris and Kathy Summers' son, Scott." Nick Fury listened to the other speaker for several minutes. He looked at Scott and smiled. "He's the spitting image of his dad, I can tell you that. I'm at Xavier's in Westchester. I want you to bring everything on the ZK-87 project. Also, bring anything you've got from Kathy. Scott says he'd like to see it. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow." He looked up. "She'll be here tomorrow afternoon. Shelley's thrilled at the thought of meeting you. Can I beg a bed for the night, Charles?"

"Certainly," Professor Xavier replied graciously. There was a knock on the door and it opened. It was Logan.

His entrance generated even more of a response from Nick Fury. He blinked twice. He turned to Professor Xavier. "You're fully of surprises today, aren't you, Charles." He turned his attention back to Logan. "I must say, I never expected to see you here. But then, I didn't expect to see you again, period."

Logan merely nodded curtly. Whatever their relationship was, Logan got the impression it was not warm and fuzzy. He had been a hired hand, nothing more. But what kind of hired hand?

Logan stepped aside when the door opened again. Jean Grey-Summers walked in. Eight months pregnant, she tended to be derisive if anyone complimented her on her looks. But the truth was, she was still stunningly beautiful, and cliché or not, she glowed. Logan thought she did, anyway.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said. "I didn't realize you had guests." That was a lie; she had sensed her husband's emotional upheaval and came to see what had happened -- which the Professor knew.

If he was annoyed with his former pupil, Professor Xavier didn't show it. "Nick, this is Dr. Jean Grey-Summers -- Scott's wife. Jean, this is Nick Fury."

"Delighted to meet you," Nick said with a true smile. "It looks like Scott takes after his father in more than looks. He married a beautiful, intelligent woman as well."

"Thank you," Jean replied with a smile. {{_What's all this about,_}} she sent her husband.

{{_I don't know,_}} he replied. {{_But we will, soon enough._}}

x x x x x

Professor Xavier conducted their guest to his room himself. The other residents of the mansion didn't see him again until dinner.

In the dining room, the students glanced at their guest, but after a few minutes of gossip dismissed him. Nick sat at "the teachers table" with the Professor, Scott, Jean, and Logan. Ororo and Kurt were out for the evening.

Scott said little at dinner. While someone who didn't know him well couldn't have told the difference, Jean knew better. Scott was chewing on something internally. Finally, he spoke.

"Did you know my parent's well?" he asked.

Nick shrugged slightly. "Your father about as well as you can know someone in six months. I knew your mother better; I worked with her longer. But I hired both of them."

"What was she like?"

"Kathy?" Nick smiled at a long forgotten memory. "She was -- brilliant. That's the only word for it. She _knew,_ instinctively, what she was going to need in a project and how to arrange it. She could just look at a design schematic to tell that. She was never wrong. It was eerie."

Jean took a bite of her chocolate cake. In general, she avoided the trap of "eating for two," but desserts were her weakness. "Sounds like some things were inherited," she remarked with a smile at her husband.

"Did you keep the planes?" Nick asked suddenly.

"Planes?"

"I always had model planes made after every project. Your mother collected them. Do you still have them?"

"They're in storage," Scott replied. Actually, they were in his brother Alex's adoptive family's shed in Hawaii. Neither Scott nor Alex had known what to do with them, so they remained there.

"That's a shame," Nick said. "There were about a dozen of them as I recall. Kathy loved those planes."

Scott only nodded and lapsed back into silence.

Jean, however, eyed her husband's untouched dessert greedily. "Are you going to finished that?" she asked.

He passed the cake over to his wife without comment.

x x x x x


	2. Chapter 2

_Standard disclaimer: I don't own them; I'm just borrowing them for our entertainment._

**Pasts Imperfect**

Chapter 2

After dinner, Jean went back to the lab to check on an experiment she and Hank McCoy were running. As usual, she lost track of time and was startled to see it was already ten o'clock.

Swearing slightly, she took the elevator directly to the floor where she and Scott had their bedroom. Although they now owned the boathouse by the lake (a wedding present from Charles Xavier), it was still being renovated. Also, given Jean's condition, Scott didn't like the idea of leaving her alone in the house if he had to be on a "mission" during the night. So they agreed to stay in the main house until the baby was born.

When Jean entered the room, Scott was sitting on the bed, looking at the photograph albums the Masters had saved for him and Alex. It was something he rarely did; to look at photographs of a life he could not remember was painful for him, to say the least.

Jean joined him on the bed and looked at the pictures over his shoulder. "You were cute," she remarked.

Scott gave her a lopsided grin but said nothing. Jean decided on a frontal assault.

"What's bothering you?" she asked.

Scott sighed and shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "I was hoping these would generate something, some memory. But there's nothing new. At dinner tonight, he talked about the model planes. I do remember those -- they were all over the house. It's one of my few real memories from before the crash. I always thought they were my Dad's. But they weren't. They were my mother's. They were the planes _she_ designed."

"And?"

"It just brings home how little I know -- about my family, about my own past. And -- you promise not to hit me?" Scott asked anxiously. He knew his wife's temper.

"I promise."

"It was such a surprise," he admitted. "To find out my mother was an engineer. I always knew my father was a test pilot, but, well, I never really thought about my mother having a career of her own. That she might have been something other than -- my mother."

Jean thought about it for a moment before balling up her fist and socking him in the shoulder.

"Ow! That hurt," Scott protested.

"Good; you deserved it," she replied firmly.

"What, for blithely assuming for almost twenty years that my mother was a housewife?"

"Hmm," was Jean's only response.

"The thing is -- I don't remember," Scott said, his tone beginning to show the anguish he always felt when he considered his lost past. "I don't remember anything from when I was a child, really. I feel like I have some memories, but are they because of these photographs or do I _really_ remember?"

Jean regarded her husband for a moment. "And does it bother you that characteristics you used to attribute to your father might actually be from your mother?" she asked pointedly.

Scott rubbed his aching shoulder. His wife still packed a solid punch. "Well, yeah, it throws me a little bit -- maybe they weren't the way I thought they were. She was my mother and I know -- nothing -- about her."

"What was your mother's maiden name?" she asked.

He had to think long and hard about that one. "O'Hanlon," he finally pronounced.

Jean nodded. "Okay," she said. "That's a place to start. Nick might be willing to get us her employment forms. And if your mother worked on a lot of government projects, she may have written articles for professional journals. If she published or co-published anything, we'll be able to find out. She might have belonged to an engineering association as well. I'll check." She smiled and stroked Scott's face. "We'll find her. You'll see."

x x x x x

The next day, Nick's secretary, Shelley, arrived. Her reaction to seeing Scott was far more vocal.

"Oh, DEAR GOD!" Shelley collapsed into nearby chair. "Nick, you might have told me."

"I did tell you," Nick replied defensively. "I said he looked like Chris."

"_Looked like?_ Try 'carbon copy.' Try 'clone'."

"That bad?" Scott inquired sympathetically.

Shelley gave him a big hug in response. "Not bad at all," she said with a sniff.

x x x x x

Shelley had brought of box of things with her, which included several photo and postcard albums. The ones from Scott's parents began with Alaska.

Scott looked at the backs of the postcards with interest.

__

"Well, winter has arrived and IT'S COLD!!! I don't know how I'm going to survive. I guess Russians go to Siberia, and the Air Force goes to Alaska. I'm not sure which is worse.

We went to visit Chris's parents last week. That was -- interesting. I'll tell you more later.

Scott waves to his Aunt Shelley.

Your ice-bound friend,

Kathy"

"What's this about my grandparents?" Scott asked.

Shelley looked at Nick for guidance. He only shrugged, so she got no help from that quarter.

"Your father seemed to have a difficult relationship with his parents," she admitted. "That's really all Kathy would say about it."

"Oh." Scott tucked that piece of information away. Once he had turned eighteen, Scott tried to trace the Summers family back in Alaska, but he had made little headway and had eventually given up.

Kathy Summers had written to Shelley about every three to four months. Mostly, the cards contained views of Alaska and homey chit-chat. But there were oblique references to Nick. One card revealed more.

_"Tell Nick to stop pestering me. He knows my price -- get my husband out of here, and we'll talk."_

"I don't understand," Scott asked. "It's pretty obvious my mother didn't like living in Alaska much, but why would you be able to do something about it? She wasn't still working for you -- was she?"

"No," Nick admitted. "She quit and went with your father to Alaska. But I wanted her back to work on a project for me." He stopped for a moment and then continued. "Your father being in Alaska wasn't a standard reassignment -- it was more of a disciplinary action. Chris had a big mouth and didn't always know when to keep it shut. So he was sent to Alaska. To be an aerospace engineer and an Air Force wife is difficult enough in normal situations -- being in Alaska made it almost impossible."

"So my mother just quit, packed up and followed him there?"

"More or less. After you were born, and especially after your brother was born, Kathy put plane designing on hold. I _did_ get your father out of Alaska --"

"We went to Florida and then Nebraska," Scott interrupted.

"But that was so Kathy could do some work for me," Nick continued. "But she would only do small projects that wouldn't take her away from home for more than a night or two. I was angling to get your father a transfer to my project base so your mother could work on the project full time when ... when the accident happened."

This was all news to Scott. "What was my father like?" he asked.

Nick shrugged. "He was a test pilot. Think "Top Gun" and you've got the blueprint. He was cocky, sure of himself, and he liked the ladies. But I have to admit, once he took up with Kathy, that ended. She wouldn't have put up with it, and I certainly never heard any rumors."

Scott wasn't sure how he felt about this disclosure. It must have showed on his face because Nick continued with a wry smile.

Nick smiled. "Your dad was human, son. He was the best in his field and he knew it. He had an ego a mile long. But it wasn't undeserved. He _was_ the best pilot I ever saw. And he trusted your mother implicitly. If she said the plane would fly, he got into the cockpit. If she said it wouldn't, he'd point blank refuse and take all the other pilots out with him. They were a great team, your parents. Chris took Kathy up in a fighter jet because she had never been in one before --"

"I think that's when she fell in love with him," Shelley murmured.

"It was against the rules, but that was the kind of man your father was," Nick finished. "He wasn't a stickler for regulations. Far from it. Now your mother was the more serious of the two. But they complimented each other."

Scott digested that information turned the page of the album. The next group of postcards were from Florida. He picked up the first one.

__

"Here we are in sunny Florida! Thank Nick for me. Eglin AFB is HUGE -- Chris is going to love it here, I can tell. And, gee, it's only 5-6 hours from Huntsville. Fancy that! Don't worry, I'm not ungrateful. Tell Nick I'll call him. But we better get a move on -- I'm pregnant again!

Kathy"

"What was in Huntsville?" Scott asked with a smile.

"My project," Nick answered easily. "I was testing it at the NASA facility there. Sometimes you and your brother would come with her. I had a lot of draft drawings with your crayon marks on them."

Scott laughed and continued to look over the albums with Shelley. Nick left them for a few minutes. Scott wasn't sure if that was accident or design, but he decided to make the most of it.

"Tell me about my mother," Scott asked. "I don't ... remember much."

Shelley smiled. "I do know she loved you and your brother more than anything in the world. Nick wasn't lying when he said he got drafts from Kathy with your crayon marks on them. She'd give you her drawings to play with and if she decided the other draft was better, she'd just take it back and send it in.

"We met on the ZK-87 project," she continued. "We were the only two women involved, and I was Nick's secretary, but that didn't seem to matter to her. She was as brilliant as Nick said she was, but you wouldn't have known that from the way she acted. She gave the impression of being serious, even severe at times, but really, she didn't take herself seriously at all. She enjoyed life and had a great sense of humor. The oddest things could make her laugh. Once your father realized that, he was always trying to get her to laugh -- and he usually succeeded. Your father fell in love with your mother first, I think, but your mother loved him with all her heart and soul."

"Didn't she mind giving it all up? Being an engineer? I gather it was hard for her to keep working."

Surprisingly, Shelley shrugged. "Not as far as I could tell. For all of Nick's attempts to get her back to work, I think she enjoyed being "an Air Force wife." She always used to say to me "I like having the break," when I talked to her about missing engineering. She enjoyed doing Nick's projects part time, but I don't think she ever would have gone back to full time work. At least, not while the two of you were still in school. She said she had just as much fun building a rocket ship for a science class to play with as building the real thing."

Scott opened his mouth to ask another question when Nick returned, so he decided to lob a bomb towards him -- just to see what would happen. "How do you know Logan?" he asked Nick.

Nick blinked. "He worked for me," he replied carefully. "Not on anything with your parents, though; I ran a lot of different projects in those days."

"I see," Scott said as he turned a page in the album. He pretended to let it go, but he couldn't fight off the growing feeling of disquiet, as though there was something lurking just under the surface, something he couldn't see.

Yet.

x x x x x

That evening, alone in their room, Scott tried to verbalize his feelings to Jean.

"... I guess the more I find out, the more surprised I get," Scott admitted. "My mother must have been a real hot shot if Nick was willing to get the Air Force to reassign my father. It's kind of weird though -- she gave up everything for my father without so much as a backward glance."

"Well," Jean tempered. "Sometimes, that's what women do."

"Would you?"

"How do you know I didn't?" she countered.

Scott was floored. Jean laughed. "You wanted to come back here to teach. I came with you."

"I thought you wanted to come, too," he said. "Be a part of the school."

"Yes," Jean admitted. "I did and I probably would have come back on my own eventually. But I was also interested in the Genome project Hank was working on. I could have done that full time, and probably would have if you hadn't have wanted to come back here." She smiled at the memory. "We were a package deal, remember. The Professor wanted and needed you back, so he offered me a position as well. I came back -- because you did."

"Huh." Scott lay back and thought about that one. After a while, his wife's steady breathing assured him she was asleep. He tried to join her, but his mind kept him awake. Eventually, he gave up and headed for the kitchen.

x x x x x


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note: After saying I've dispensed with the Summers comic book fates, I do have a curtsy to the comics in this chapter. It's easy to spot._ :-)

_Standard disclaimer: I don't own them; I'm just borrowing them for our entertainment._

**Pasts Imperfect**

Chapter 3

__

Logan was in the mountains. It was cold, icy. They had picked up the bodies some time ago. The man had been literally cut in two, but the woman -- the woman looked like she had simply fallen asleep among the wreckage. Her neck had been broken in the crash. The children had been found alive, miraculously, far from the crash site. The survivors were too young to be inconvenient -- besides, they weren't his job.

Wreckage littered the landscape. He picked up part of the debris. There was writing on it.

"Corsair."

Logan woke with a start, drenched in sweat. Nightmares weren't anything new for him. But this was a different -- and he had no idea what it was about. He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. Perhaps a little patrolling would clear his mind.

x x x x x

Officially, Logan was head of security for the school. After walking around the halls and checking on a few doors and windows, he headed for the kitchen. He was only mildly surprised to find the light on. The kids were given a lot of leeway at the school and were notorious for wandering around late at night.

But it wasn't a student. It was Scott, nursing a mug of cocoa.

"Surprised to see you here," Logan remarked as he went to get a soda. He couldn't be bothered to go back to his room for a beer.

Once upon a time, when Jean was believed to be dead, the two men had spent a surprising number of evenings in the kitchen, working through their respective demons. And while they hadn't actually come out of it as friends, they at least had a fairly decent understanding of each other. And a mutual respect.

"I couldn't sleep," Scott replied. He waited for Logan to join him at the table before continuing. "It's been such a surprise -- finding someone who knew my parents. And we still don't know who sent the photograph. I don't know, it's just -- weird."

"I'm not sure I trust this Nick Fury," Logan stated. He had kept out of their visitor's way since his arrival. There was something about the way Nick looked at him that made him realize he might not _want_ to know what he had done while working for the other man. Some things were best left buried.

"He seemed genuinely surprised that someone had sent me the photograph," Scott said slowly. "And I asked him outright what you did for him. He didn't tell me, of course."

"Of course."

"But still, if he was surprised to see me, he was _really_ surprised to see you," Scott finished.

"What do you remember about the plane crash?" Logan asked suddenly, remembering his nightmare. Scott and his brother had survived the accident -- two children had survived the one in his dream. Were they linked?

Scott concentrated for a moment and then shook his head. "Nothing. It's gone -- all gone."

Logan understood the emptiness that came with memory loss only too well. "See you and raise you," he said as he lifted his soda bottle in a mock salute.

The younger man said nothing.

"You lost ten years," Logan continued. "But at least you know it's ten. I have no idea how many years I lost -- twenty, thirty, who knows, maybe a hundred."

"Do you think Nick Fury was a part of it?" Scott asked, referring to the experiments that had wiped out Logan's memory.

"No," Logan replied. "But he might know something about it."

The two men lapsed into silence as they sipped their drinks.

x x x x x

The next morning, both Nick and Shelley left. Shelley cheerfully allowed Scott to keep the postcards and photograph albums for as long as he wanted, and to make copies of anything. He assured the older woman that he would return them promptly.

Nick also agreed to send whatever employment information he had on Katherine Summers. That afternoon, the first pages arrived via fax.

x x x x x

Jean waved the papers in front of Scott's face.

"See," she said triumphantly. "Nick sent a copy of your mother's Standard Form 171 from when she applied to work as his project manager. Her whole life is on four sheets of paper."

As Jean said, the SF-171 was a gold mine of information. Katherine Anne O'Hanlon had been born in Baltimore and attended a Catholic high school in that city. She had gotten her engineering degree at the University of Maryland and had gone to work for NASA and was still there at the time Nick Fury hired her (Nick had called it poaching). She was young, but Jean gathered everyone on the project were young all-stars. Even Nick Fury had been under forty at the time. They were all the best of the best in their fields.

Jean also went online and found Scott's mother had co-authored two articles for engineering journals. Jean began to feel a certain kinship to the woman who would have been her mother-in-law. She felt a pang when she realized Katherine Summers had only been forty-one at the time of her death. She placed a hand on her stomach in a gesture of protection. Her life was far more dangerous than Scott's mother's had been.

Jean shook these thoughts from her mind and began to work her notes into a brief biography. She wasn't sure how much information they would eventually gather on Scott's mother, but this was a start.

x x x x x

Meanwhile, Logan couldn't shake the memory of his dreams. In the end, he went to the one person who might be able to help him make sense of it all.

He found Professor Xavier in his study. "What do you know about the accident that killed Scott's parents?" he asked without preamble.

"Not a great deal," the Professor admitted. "Why?"

"I don't know," Logan admitted. "I -- I had a dream."

"And?" the other man prompted calmly.

"I was in the mountains, I think. I don't know where," Logan said slowly. "There had been a plane crash. I picked up a piece of wreckage off the ground. There was writing on it -- _Corsair_."

Professor Xavier went pale. "Logan -- _Corsair_ was the name of the plane Scott and his family were on at the time of the accident."

Logan wasn't that surprised. It was just proof of what he suspected. He thought about his dream for a moment. "Where did the plane come from?" he asked suddenly.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Where did the plane come from?" Logan repeated. "Scott's father was, what, a Major in the Air Force? He was a married man with two small children. Do you really think he had the money for a private plane?"

"Perhaps he chartered it," the Professor offered.

"Maybe," Logan acknowledged. "But I think we need to find out about that plane. The plane is the focal point in the dream -- I have a feeling it's going to be the key to everything. The key to why I'm having these dreams -- and what they mean."

"Very well," Professor Xavier said. "I have contacts outside of Nick Fury. I'll see what I can find out. And Logan --?"

"Yes?"

"Don't say anything to Scott yet. I don't want to upset him unnecessarily."

Logan nodded. He wouldn't have admitted it publically, but neither did he.

x x x x x

That night, Logan's nightmare returned.

__

He was back on the mountain top. Again, it was cold. Again, wreckage surrounded him. Again, the piece that said "Corsair."

This time he picked up another piece. A stray thought darted through his mind.

"Sabotage."

Logan woke with a start, the terrible word still on his lips.

x x x x x

The next day, he went in search of Scott. He had some questions he had to ask -- and he had to figure out a way to do it without having the younger man ask too many questions in return.

He found Scott in the gym, practicing kendo. He was almost as good as Logan at the Japanese fencing style. Today he was blindfolded; he like to practice like that in case his eyes were or had to be covered. Logan understood the need to make a possible liability into an asset. They had used Scott's ability to "see in the dark" on more than one occasion.

"Good morning, Logan," Scott called out.

"'Morning," Logan replied. He wasn't surprised Scott knew it was him. The younger man's senses were almost as good as his own.

Scott turned his head away as he removed his blindfold and restored his glasses to their place. "Want to join me in some practice?"

"Sure," Logan replied. He went to get a fencing staff. "How's the search going for information about your mother?"

"Not bad," he responded. "Jean knows how to track down the academic stuff. My mother was from Baltimore, of all places."

"Were you born there?"

"No," Scott replied. "I was born in Alaska."

Logan decided he'd have to ask outright to get the answers he needed. "I suppose your father is buried in Arlington."

"No," Scott said. "My parents are buried together, in Alaska. I've seen the grave site."

Logan nodded with false nonchalance. "Have you been to the crash site?"

"The crash site was never found," the younger man explained. "The wreckage is probably still up in the mountains, somewhere."

Logan had to hide his surprise. "Your parents weren't found at the crash site?" he repeated slowly.

"No," Scott said patiently. "They were apparently found just a couple miles from us. The plane probably broke up in the air and scattered. They found us, they found my parents' bodies -- the plane wreckage wasn't important and they gave up. Why?"

"No reason."

"Oh, there's a reason," Scott remarked knowingly. "Am I going to find out what it is?"

"Maybe." Logan grinned. "Think you can beat it out of me, Cyclops?"

"No," Scott replied as he tossed the other man a face mask. "But I can try."

x x x x x

After sparring with Scott, Logan returned to the Professor's study and reported on the conversation.

"The plane's the key, I'm sure of it," he repeated. "In my dream, Scott's parents were at the crash site. And I'm willing to bet that dream is a memory. But why lie about where the remains were found? Why make a secret over the crash site of an ordinary plane -- unless the plane wasn't ordinary at all." He made up his mind. "I need you to read my mind again."

"Logan, we've discussed this before ..."

He held up his hand to stop the other man. "I had another dream last night. I picked up the wreckage and thought _sabotage_. Is that it? Is that what I did for Fury? Was I an assassin? Was it really an accident or was the plane sabotaged -- and did I do it? I've got to know, Chuck. You've got to help me."

"Very well," the Profess sighed. "Lie down and clear your mind."

x x x x x


	4. Chapter 4

_Standard disclaimer: I don't own them; I'm just borrowing them for our entertainment._

**Pasts Imperfect**

Chapter 4

Again, the scenes of the dream played out. Logan in mountains, walking around the wreckage, picking up pieces and discarding them. But this time, there was a silent watcher -- Professor Xavier.

"Well?" Logan asked as the Professor released his mind.

Professor Xavier sighed. "I fear you may be right, Logan," he said. "At the very least about the plane. I heard from my contact this morning. It was a government plane, a prototype being developed -- under Nick Fury."

"Isn't testing a plane with civilians on board unusual -- not to mention dangerous?"

"Yes, it is," he agreed. "But it wasn't a standard military aircraft. It was designed to carry small groups of people into rough terrain, possibly for intelligence uses or reconnaissance. However, after the accident, the project was canceled."

"That still doesn't explain how and why the Summers family were on board," Logan remarked.

"No, it doesn't," the Professor admitted. "My contact knew only about the technical aspects of the project. The plane had cleared the first batch of tests. Neither Major Summers nor his wife are listed as officially on the project, but the fact remains, they crashed in the _Corsair_."

"Did I do it?" Logan asked again. "Is that what the dream means? Was I the saboteur? Am I responsible for their deaths?"

"Logan, please think about it logically," Professor Xavier entreated. "Why would the saboteur be looking at the wreckage. Why would he even _be_ at the crash site? Wouldn't your more obvious talents lead you to another deduction?"

"What other deduction is there?"

The Professor regarded the other man patiently. "What are you doing in the dream, Logan?"

He sighed. "I'm ... I'm looking at the wreckage."

"Specifically."

"I'm picking up bits of the plane and putting them down," he said. "I know the bodies were there, but they've already been taken away in the dream. I'm just looking at things. Finding things. I --"

"Yes?"

Now Logan understood. "I found the plane. I found the bodies. I'm a tracker -- I find things. That's what I'm doing in my dream. _That's_ what I did for Nick Fury."

The Professor nodded. "Now that you know what you did, you'll know how to proceed."

Logan nodded. "I'm going to Washington."

x x x x x

Nick Fury walked slowly down the long hallway. For someone who was supposed to be retired, he spent an awful lot of time in the S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters.

He opened the door to his office and stared. Sitting in the guest chair was Logan.

Nick walked around to his desk and sat down. "I'm a little surprised to see you," he said. "You didn't seem to want to talk much in Westchester."

"Well, I want to talk now," Logan responded. "Specifically, I want to talk about the _Corsair_ project. You know -- the plane Christopher and Katherine Summers died in."

"That's old news Logan."

"Not to Scott," Logan said firmly. "I found the plane for you; I know the remains were recovered there as well. But why cover it up? Scott and his brother were never told where the plane actually went down. And what were they doing on the plane anyway? Wasn't it still experimental?"

Nick sighed. "God help me, I suggested it. It was already at Offutt, it had passed all the tests. Kathy knew the specs and approved them. I thought it would be interesting to have her opinion on it. They were going to go to Alaska for a few days, just a short trip. I had no reason to believe anything would happen."

"So the possibility of sabotage didn't enter your head?" Logan asked.

"Why would it? Besides, the final report was inconclusive," Nick replied.

"Bull."

Nick just stared at him. "I choose to believe it was an accident," he said. "The project was scrapped. Chris and Kathy are dead -- I can't bring them back. Let it rest, Logan. Scott's going to be a father himself soon; he and his brother have moved on with their lives. What good would it serve to bring it all up again when there's nothing definite to tell him?"

"He has a right to know."

"No, he doesn't."

"At the very least, he's going to know where the plane crashed," Logan stated firmly. "Either you're going to tell him, or I will. And if I tell him, I'll tell him everything."

The two men stared at each other for several minutes.

"I'll have an accident report sent it to him," Nick said finally. "We took all the wreckage away. There's nothing left up there for him to see, anyway."

"He'll want to know." And speaking of things to know. "Were you involved with Stryker?" Stryker had been in charge of the project that had given Logan a metal skeleton and taken away any memory of his past. From what Logan had seen of Nick Fury, it was highly likely they knew each other.

Nick was genuinely surprised. "Certainly not. I advised you to steer clear of him, as I recall. And since you _don't_ recall, I would say my judgement was correct."

"It was." Logan rose and went to the door. He stopped and, without turning, said, "We're going to Hell, Nick."

"I know."

x x x x x

Sometime after Logan left, Shelley entered the office. Like Nick, for someone who was supposed to be retired, she spent a lot of time there.

Nick looked up. Come to think of it, he had a few questions himself. "Why did you send that old photograph to Scott? Did you think it would force me to tell him everything?"

Shelley stared at him without flinching. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said as she left the office.

Nick smiled as he went back to his paperwork. Shelley had never been a good liar.

x x x x x

Scott got the promised accident report from Nick a few days later. As Logan knew he would, he wanted to go to the crash site. Scott wouldn't hear of Jean coming with him, but his brother Alex flew to Denver to accompany him.

The two brothers drove as far as they could and then chartered a helicopter to take them to the site. As Nick said, there was nothing left for them to see. But they could stand on the ground where their parents had died and where their lives had changed forever.

For the moment, that was enough.

x x x x x

Scott returned to the mansion in Westchester in a somber mood, but at the same time, with a weight gone. He could move on.

When he entered the main hall he noticed a small gaggle of students in front of the breakfront that housed the Xavier family silver. Scott smiled as he saw Jean break away from the group and come towards him.

Jean smiled broadly as she kissed him. "I'm so glad you're back, I've missed you. Come on, I've got something to show you."

Scott dropped his bag in the hall and followed his wife to where the students were gathered. He stared at the old breakfront. Gone were the silver platters and bowls. In their place were his mother's planes. Jean had gotten them from Hawaii while he was gone and put them on display. In a corner, on a placard, was a photograph of his mother and a short history of her career in aviation design.

Scott found himself shaking. Jean put her arm around him.

"I thought it would be appropriate to have them here," she told him. "There still aren't a lot of women aerospace engineers, so I thought it would be nice for the girls to see. And she's your mother, so that's just icing on the cake."

"I'm speechless," he said. "Thank you so much."

"Hey, Mr. Summers," one of the girls called out. "I guess you inherited all your mechanical ability from your mom."

Scott smiled broadly. "Yeah, I think I did."

THE END

_As always, I'd like to thank my beta readers, Jen and Amy. I hope you all enjoyed the story._


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